


Burn It

by butyougotmysoul



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25094554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butyougotmysoul/pseuds/butyougotmysoul
Summary: No summary. It's less than 700 words, just read it!
Relationships: Joseph Kavinsky/Ronan Lynch
Comments: 13
Kudos: 23
Collections: TRC Fic Drabbles With Friends!





	Burn It

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Burn It by Agust D, featuring MAX.  
> You can listen, read the lyrics and translation here: https://doolsetbangtan.wordpress.com/2020/05/22/burn-it-feat-max/

Ronan lay on his back in the grass at the Barns. He closed his eyes against the soft mist kissing his face. It was a stark contrast between what he saw every time he closed his eyes. The bright orange heat of the fiery dragon that took Kavinsky blasted its heat from behind his eyelids. Kavinsy’s face flashed into his mind, the burning look he’d seemingly saved for Ronan etched onto his features. Next, all he saw was Kavinsky crumpling, the car Prokopenko had been driving crashing into one of those buildings. He thought again about how he could’ve killed Kavinsky...but still knew it wasn’t true. He knew the ache he felt seeing his face in his mind meant that he never could have killed him - never would have. 

Ronan pushed himself up from the grass, sighing heavily, realizing the wet grass around him was smoldering slightly. Fuck, had he been dreaming? He couldn’t tell - until Kavinsky’s white sunglasses caught his eye. He had been. He wondered, not for the first time, if he could have dreamed Kavinsky back to life. He knew, deep down, that he wouldn’t be the same Kavinsky. He probably wouldn’t even be similar - just a shallow facsimile of him. All the wild parts, untamed, and few tender moments. 

Ronan plodded back to the house, letting himself in and up to his bedroom. He flopped onto the bed. He closed his eyes and Kavinsky’s face flashed again. Ronan realised Kavinsky was fire - fast and hot and bright while it had something to hold onto - extinguished dramatically. 

His blood surged as his mind wandered into the white Mitsubishi, feeling the heat between them as Kavinsky taught him how to manifest his dreams. He let his visions have some freedom, giving up on controlling the narrative, shifting on the bed as Kavinsky leaned forward, closing the space between them, his hot lips touching Ronan's. Ronan could see the gold chain around Kavinsky’s neck glint in the hot sunlight as it dangled between them. Ronan leaned into the kiss, savoring the heat coming off Kavinsky, touching the back of his neck, hissing as his skin felt like it was burning. The dark hollows of Kavinsky’s eyes flickered with humor, “Too hot to handle, huh?”  
Ronan heard himself speaking into the darkness of his bedroom, “Always were…”  
Kavinsky pulled back, holding a green pill up to his lips, “I doubt you can follow me this time.”  
Ronan frowned, “Please don’t go yet.”  
Kavinsky’s grin flashed, “Only if you’ll kiss me again.”  
Ronan glanced around him. The heat made the mountains in the distance waver, feeling like a mirage. He took a breath before leaning back in, pressing his lips to Kavinsky’s once more. Ronan made a soft sound in the back of his throat, feeling his body stir at the contact, the overwhelming warmth seeping over him. He reached out, touching Kavinsky’s bare arm, scalding the skin of his palm, running it up and over his shoulder, down his back...

Ronan gasped, his eyes flying open, the vision of Kavinsky’s eyes closed, head thrown back emblazoned in his memory. He choked out a cold laugh of disbelief, glancing around his dark bedroom. It was freezing, but he’d been sweating, his sheets mussed, his pants flung to the floor. He shook his head and sighed heavily, moving to start straightening the room and himself. 

When he pulled the sheets straight, he lurched forward, grabbing Kavinsky’s gold chain that was lying on the bed. He threw it across the room and fell to his knees, closing his eyes against the flashes of heat and light coming off the necklace, steeling himself against the glimpses of Kavinsky’s face seared into his mind. Ronan pressed his face into the cold sheets, a sob escaping from his lips, “I can’t keep dreaming you.”


End file.
